Ug. I woke up at 9:00 am, which is way too early for a Sunday, thinking it was just because my allergies were stronger than the Benadryll. But I definitely have a cold. What my coworker claimed to be allergies last week was clearly a cold, because now I have it. I went to the diner for lunch with Joe, but other than that I have done nothing all day. I really want to just call out of work tomorrow, but I know my desk is a disaster. In all likelihood, I’ll go in with the intentions of taking care of a few things, and leaving early, and will wind up staying all day. And probably, after the virtual deadness of last week, this week will be insane. Murphy’s Law and everything.

There are a few jobs to put in applications for this week, but I’m not expecting much. This process sucks, and I am sure Joe is thoroughly sick of talking with me about it. I think that if I don’t find anything by September, I will seriously consider just taking the huge chance and moving to DC with no job. And then make job hunting my full time job, and also, probably try to get temp work at the same time, but with the lousy economy, that seems unlikely to pan out. This is all probably just speculation; I don’t think I have the guts to make such a move. I don’t have to move to DC. My emergency fund is supposed to be just that – emergency funds, should I lose my job, not luxury money to play with because I can’t stand suburbia another second.

Joe is trying to get me to think of it in terms of time as a valuable resource, as in, I feel like I’m wasting away my time here, and if DC is what I really want to do, I should just do it, and worry about rebuilding an emergency fund later. But I know myself. I am responsible about these things, perhaps to a fault, and perhaps out of fear. I am a Hobbesian. I value security, perhaps over all other things.

And I always do the safe thing. Always.

In the last moments of 2009, I was sitting on my bed (the build up to ball-drop in Times Square on TV in the background, out of habit, and Just Because) talking to Keith, as I have so many nights in 2009.

“…and Crocodile,” Keith said when midnight hit.

Last year was Year of The Terrapin. This year, we’ve settled on the Crocodile. Please don’t ask, the explanation makes plenty of sense, but I don’t need any one else to give me that Look, the one that says “….ooookay” and makes me feel awkward.

I mentioned that the world might end tomorrow (because the date is a palindrome and that apparently means something doom-y) Of course I don’t take that seriously, but the world ending is not something I ever worry about. Because if the world ended, then it would be over! And I’d be dead! So it’s not something to worry about.

And we discussed some of our petty, judgmental thoughts. And I watched more West Wing. And ate junk food around 12:45. And thought, in the vaguest of terms about what I want from this year, and I guess, from this decade.

Because if you asked me what I wanted from the year, or decade when 1999 turned into 2000, I have no clue. I could go retrieve my journals from my parents attic, but the one for those days most likely just details the phone conversation I had with The Ex, late in the morning of the first day of 2000.

About a year ago, I thought I would be maybe, possibly applying for Law School this fall. It quickly became clear that my head was in no way clear enough to begin the process. And also, um…I’m not sure I want to go to Law School. I have moments where it seems like a great idea, but also moments where I think “why the hell would I want to go to Law School?” 

The problem is that Law School has begun to seem like an inevitable instead of a want. 

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I’m still trying to live without a Plan, so this is more of ajn idea that sounds nice, but isn’t yet a plan.

September 2010 – Apply for Law School (possibly MA at the same time, but def. apply places where getting an MA in Int’l Relations as part of a dual-degree is possible.)

September 2011- Start Law School

Potentially enter MA program

Summer 2015 (yikes) Finish dual degree program (they are four years and enormous debt.

That’s all I have so far.

“We will survive all these dreaded weekend nights when our situations seem especially torturous, until we reach the promised land — independence and relative stability, to be enjoyed while watching baseball, conversing cynically in person, and petting our cats in our shared apartment on the outskirts of some city. And if that doesn’t happen I will just steal us some drugs.”

 
David:  So who wrote this, you or me? It must have been you, I don’t have my MA.

Today is 08/08/08, and things are not much different than they were on 08/08/07.

However, on 09/09/09, things have the potential to be different.

Keithers and I have a pact to remind each other of that for the next 13 months.

I am all over the map this month. Go away, October.

Anyway, my high school friend Joe, who’ve I just recently gotten back in touch with due to the fact that we work across the street from each other and saw each other on the bus all the time when I was briefly commuting from Jersey, agreed to be my date for the black tie event I had to attend for work. He agreed with no begging on my part, just a “Sure, when do I need to be there?” Because old friends are awesome.

I called Lisa up, who i haven’t spoken to in forever, just to tell her about this agreement, and she told me that “This entire ordeal with you being a grown up is too surreal and upsets my always tenuous equilibrium. In addition to Joe’s capacity for predictable decorum, he has also grown up a bit and no longer is our “little Joe.”

Which I relayed to Joe, and he was like “yeah, that’s pretty much accurate.” But for the record, the evening went very well. Joe was exactly the perfect date. He kept me talking throughout whenever it was just the two of us standing around, because anyone from staff was either a) important enough to be schmoozing with donors b) had to work the front door. (I am still not sure why my presence was required…whatever)

He kept me talking which prevented me from wringing my hands, biting my nails, or looking overly awkward. There was massive amount of delicious sushi. I drank too much wine, but that had no ill effects, because we were seated with the scientists, not staff for some reason. This was actually a pretty good situation, as Joe was a physics major in college, and chatted up the science people. I am completely floored by Joe’s ability to seamlessly socialize with various individuals at the table. He kept me from being a nervous wreck. Joe has known me for nearly a decade and thus is familiar with my particular brand of neurosis and was able to balance it well. Ladies, Joe is a total catch, my new mission is to find him a girlfriend.

So the evening went very well and thank god it is over, but also being a grown up is fucking scary. I really think I’m still pretty clueless on the ‘life plan’ level. My job is stable and I like it, and it’s a pretty cool organization (this was just confirmed to me tenfold because of the presentations on Sunday. My organization funds some really awesome work and I should be proud to be a small part of it)

I’m just…I don’t know right now. I feel okay about my job, but I’m not sure where I can go from it in the long run. I know I’ve only been there for two months, but I’m already thinking along the lines of that there is nowhere to really go from where I am and that’s…frustrating. I have my expensive education and it’s like if I ever want to do more than what I’m doing now I’m going to have to go elsewhere.

I may ultimately want something else, even though I should be perfectly grateful with what I’ve got, job and apartment wise, because for another example of how much of a jerk I am, right now I am back at Freeze Peach in the Ditmars area, and as amazingly awesome as my apartment is the location will never be Ditmars….

Most people would say I”m in a better location now, more transportation options, etc, but Ditmars is home. Ditmars feels right. I don’t think my new location ever will feel quite right, and that makes me sad because it is an AWESOME apartment, but I think I’d take back my humble abode on 21st Avenue too.

As I suspected I would, I miss my previous life as an Astorian.  I don’t know what’s next, and I ALWAYS know what’s next. So I”m trying to take a deep breath and go to bed early tonight, because god damnit, I’m a smart girl and I’ll figure this the hell out.

It’s a beautiful day. Don’t let it get away.

Besides my distrust/discomfort with perfectly weathered days such as this one, I’m afraid I also have to ignore Bono’s plantative suggestion because I am spending the whole day inside with my fascist boyfriend. It’s not as enjoyable as it sounds. I DO have on a very pretty colored tank top — it’s all about the little things. Plus, I need to look really cute to make up for the fact that I’m Jewish — my fascist boyfriend lets that go because I have a German last name, and lets face it, how many other chicks are going to defend him. Oh wow — way too close to my MO for comfort, anyway, back to the real purpose of this entry: procrastination!

I put in my degree application today. It’s also March 8th, meaning graduation is in exactly 3 months.

Other than that, I got nothing. The only subject I can talk about is all my final papers, and progress (or non-progress) I’m making on said final papers.

Oh, and Hans Blix is speaking here today, so I’m going to go see him. It may be relevant to my thesis. And there may be free food.

Life feels very, very, very good right now.

Last night was the MAPSS dinner. They sat us by precept group. I got to talk to my precepter a lot. Last quarter I was very anti-him, but I have, as I mentioned, done a total 180, and he is awesome, and I am so lucky to be in this group.

We made toasts. We bonded. We did a little bit of sharing TMI. (I told the “how I got into political theory because of a boy” story.)

Sarah, who is apparently right about everything, joined our table later on in the evening. She has predicted that I’m going to get a PhD, wind up in academia, etc based on the way I talk about things. (She also predicted the conclusions of this weekend. Cough) That would solve the problem about what the hell I’m going to do with my life, but we’ll see. No Plan. Did you know political theorists are being phased out? And only about 6% of jobs in political science go to theorists, and most of those are for nonsense like “Logic” and “Game Theory.”

We went to the pub afterwards and I had good-good conversations with people I hadn’t talked to much before. I talked to one girl about NYC and how we both want to move back there, etc. I talked to a girl in my building about how we stop working at 10 PM (we live in the stupid central time zone, shut up) to watch the Daily Show.

Life is bizarre and good, and awesome. I will still say in a heartbeat that I miss New York, and I miss Astoria, and I miss the life I had there. And I still want to be done with this program and have some certainty about what the hell I’m doing next year. But, since I’ve been told I need to learn how to live in the present and not worry so much about the future, I’m going to really try to just enjoy this, for this.

How the hell is it the end of 6th week? I’m actually somewhat ahead of the game, since I have my thesis proposal on file and paper topics figured out for final papers. Because I can’t get out of my Schmittian mindset, I’m writing about “the exception,” as used by Machiavelli. Because Machiavelli basically says, it doesn’t matter what the law says, so long as you have arms to back them up, and then the prince (the sovereign) doesn’t have to follow the laws anyway, so long as he maintains the regime. And I think I’m writing about the tensions between love and equality as seen in Voltaire’s Candide but that is up in the air.

And also, I’ve done all this talk lately about “Abandoning The Plan.” I’m probably not applying for PhD programs after this is over. It’s a struggle for me just to complete this program because I don’t care about it; my heart isn’t into it. In hindsight, I chalk it up to one more thing I thought I was “supposed” to do, and realize I was definitely on to something when I bawled and insisted I did not want to go when I found out I got in here.

Another stark reminder that I should listen to my instincts, at all times.

I drove home that night, not thinking further ahead than my headlights dancing on the nearly deserted Northway, but being fully aware that I was racing away from everything I knew.

I got home and Xina was on the phone. “Hold on,” she told the caller. “My housemate just broke up with her boyfriend…wait, what?” She looked at me, and after assessing that I was okay said “My friend Keith wants to know if you’re hot.”

Proof that life would go on. Not as usual, but it would go on.

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After several days of abject panic, my Ipod shuffle cued up “Vienna” while I was was walking to campus yesterday morning. Which is one big scary-relevant-lyric of excellent advice. I do have a habit of being so ahead of myself that I forget what I need.

Sometimes, I have to remind myself that at the end of this program, I am going to be twenty-four years old, with an MA from the University of Chicago, and another full year’s experience at a research assistant. And that’s really damn good.

And my professor from last quarter, who is one of the most prominent experts on Carl Schmitt in the entire world of academia, is looking at my thesis proposal this week, and will most likely be my advisor. He said my proposed thesis is “provacative.” That is also really damn good.

And, so long as I can keep on task, I will finish in June, instead of August. Graduation date is about six months from today. That is also really damn good.

So Internet is completely down at work, leaving me with NOTHING to do. I’m effectively so bored that time is standing still.

But it’s funny; I would do nearly anything to be able to stop time this summer; there have been so many right nows, todays, right this seconds. There has been quiet contentment and uproarious laughter, and it’s all so lovely, I want to hold on to it, and stand in the light as long as possible.

It’s like this: now is the most contented and comfortable in my own skin I think I’ve ever been.

I am not racked with anxiety. I am not crying spontaneously, or without reason. I am not struggling (Boo to thee who say you cannot do NYC on a budget.) I am not longing. I am not unhappy. You may say this is a lot of “nots” – what are you, anyway? — but I tell you this list of negatives is incredibly significant and positive, despite it defining me in negative space.

So I sit here, in this little den I’ve created of comfort and stability, and I look ahead. I see the weekend; an outing to Culture Club with the girls, going to Coney Island with Jill & Drew, another Sunday in Astoria. I see next week, another set of Astoria-centric outings.

I see the next month of cramming in last minutes and last moments. I see a list of plans and people to see. I see good-byes that I’m refusing to think about right now. I see a life that it full of…well, life.

And then, that’s it, I look ahead, and there is leaving this den. There is packing up my apartment. There is driving to Chicago. There is starting school. There is a life that is just plain different from the one I’m living right this second.

And while it is scary, I am not paralyzed. I’m excited about the new things life will bring in the next year, even if some of them will bring some pain, too.

At first I was scared stiff by the thought of my life changing rhythms. Did you know I burst into tears when I found out I got into U Chicago and insisted I didn’t want to go? I didn’t want to leave the cacoon of comfort New York was becoming. It was at the corner of one phrase and another, a final push to learn to let go.

Now I’m generally sunny with occaisonal bouts of doubt. Only occaisonal ones, that stay for a beat and then move on.

So, you see, I think I know how this works. Change is good. My mind knows this now. And I am not collapsing into fits of anxiety, and I am not succumbing to fear. I am embracing change and looking forward to it.

I just wish time would tick by a bit more slowly this summer, that’s all. I wish these long hot days of summer would become just a tiny bit slower. I wish it would all stop flying by so fast.

And so the internet goes back up, and there is distraction and things to procrastinate my assigned data entry again. But that hour ticked by, no joke. So maybe someone is making time go by a little slower for me. Maybe.

In a little while, I’m leaving for a Brazillian Barbeque Feast with the usual suspects. We are going to eat ridiculous amounts of food and then I’m going to go see a movie with a bunch of strangers. Tomorrow I am going to a lecture and then for coffee with Randroids.

And then on Monday I’m going to write my professors for yes, one more letter. I’ll put together an application by the end of the week; just as one more option.

I am going to see Billy Joel again and I will be bouncy and happy and fan-girly because it is Billy Joel! It is impossible to be sad when there is Billy Joel!

And I’m going to start looking at jobs and rents in DC, even though I am not qualified to do anything. Because I’m just looking. But Michael and I may as well start our presidential campaign early, and he’d make a great housemate.

As I told Lisa last night, as we referenced conversations now six years old ‘I will survive, and then it will be raining men, and then I will make a speech about how my coach, was like, totally influential on my life.”
“Like, totally! Because you have two jobs and do all sorts of volunteer work. And still play soccer!”
“Totally. And woman’s soccer is like, totally important. I am going to campaign to get us more fields!”

I’ve condensed my Honors Research paper to 25 pages, and although it’s a bit rushed, I feel it’s strong enough to submit to University of Chicago. I’m finished with my Columbia SOP, and nearly done with my University of Texas one. I’ve revised my list of schools I’m applying to, started some online applications, and today, the process seems manageable.

So I’m applying for graduate school, blah blah blah, extremely competitive, blah blah blah I’m never going to get into graduate school.

Anyway, I’ve always been fairly certain I will get into Rutgers. Rutgers has a very good political science program that has consistently improved in the past five years. As important, if I’m accepted I’ll be fully funded, be giving a housing stipend, and in addition, get paid to be a TA or research assistant after the first year. All of this is fantastic, but I’ve been caught up in stigma of “it’s Rutgers”

Yeah, it’s Rutgers, and it’s always been a good school, growing up in suburban New Jersey just makes you a snob.

And yeah, it’s Rutgers, and political theory faculty has a Tocqueville scholar. A Tocqueville scholar! I’ve been toying with the idea of reading modern political thought (Hobbes, Tocqueville, etc) through a feminist framework, and the ways in which modern political theory is applicable to contemporary ideas of sovereignty. Much of my goal regarding reading Tocqueville through a feminist framework is to find a theoretical grounding for my qualms with much contemporary feminist theory.

And there’s a Tocqueville scholar at Rutgers. So how can I not go?

But then there’s this, that I’ve never been out of the Northeast, and thus I’ve never really been out of my comfort zone, and Thomas West is at U-Dallas, and, and, and.

And I adore Tocqueville, and Jersey, and being near my family and surrogate family alike, and, and, and

And “que sera, sera”

I’m going to just be a real fun person to be around when acceptance and rejection letters role in mid-March through mid-April. That’s already my “that time of year!”